


Death of it All

by eerian_sadow



Series: speedwriting [49]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Community: tf_speedwriting, Gen, damage, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-24
Updated: 2011-05-24
Packaged: 2018-02-15 04:36:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2216073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One mech discovers the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death of it All

**Author's Note:**

> written for the May 21, 2011 round at tf_speedwriting. Based on an idea given to me by [](http://wicked3659.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://wicked3659.livejournal.com/)**wicked3659** , though I don’t think I could have done her exact idea any justice with only two hours worth of writing time. Many thanks to her for her assistance in brainstorming with me for this. ^_^

His optics widened as Autobot officers hurried past him and he tried desperately to absorb the news he had just found in their computer system.

The Allspark _wasn’t_ in Tyger Pax.

The Allspark wasn’t in Tyger Pax and the Autobots were planning to launch it into space.

He couldn’t’ understand it. A plan like that would mean the extinction of their race. It meant… it meant that everything Megatron had ever said about the Autobots was right and that the Decepticons were on the true, right path.

He had to get this information back to his unit commander. There was still time to re-route at least a portion of the attack force from Tyger Pax to the launch site and prevent the madness. There was still time to save their planet and their people.

He stepped carefully from his hiding place and joined the flow of rapidly moving Autobots heading for the door of this small temple that had become a base. Once they were outside and in the thick of the battle he ran, like many of the others were doing, toward the front line of the battle.

The difference between the Autobots and him, though, was that he would not be stopping to engage his enemy.

He resisted the urge to open a communication link to his unit commander as he ran. Comms were too easy to jam or trace or hack and the information he had to relay far too sensitive to risk.

He sprinted through the battle, dodging the worst clusters of fighting mechs and praying that someone didn’t shoot him in the back. He was unmarked right now; a neutral and therefore presumed to be no threat to the Autobots but many of his allies would not make that distinction. Anyone who was not a Decepticon was an enemy.

Halfway across the battlefield, half by his estimate anyway, he was grabbed and spun around by one of the Autobots. He activated his weapon and raised it before the Autobot could do or say anything and fired into the mech’s chest plates. His enemy’s grip loosened as the Autobot fell and he turned back toward Decepticon lines. For one long, hopeful moment he thought he would make it.

And then a plasma round, one of several that peppered the ground around him, tore through his back plates. His neural network’s connection to his legs was cut and the collapsed beneath him. He fell and landed hard against the fluid-covered ground. He wailed as he tried to get back up. He could he similar wails—some angry, some merely in pain—around him.

The was no comfort to be taken in the fact that he was not the only victim.

He tried to drag himself further forward, closer to his allies, but his body failed him after taking so much damage. His arms gave out beneath him and he collapsed back onto the wet ground. He turned his head, trying to see if anyone still living was close enough to comm.

Instead, he saw the bright flare of rocket engines. All optics on the battlefield followed their glow up into the sky and he knew that he had been too late. Even if he had made it back to his unit commander, he had been too late.

He turned away from the sight. It didn’t matter anymore.  


 

 


End file.
